


you only got to raise your eyes

by madameofmusic



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Bookstore AU, College AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-28 09:27:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11415018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madameofmusic/pseuds/madameofmusic
Summary: Nick Snow, goalie for Providence University, doesn't have the money to be spending on all these books, not on a (nonexistent) student salary. But the clerk who works the shop's register? Well, he'swellworth coming back for.(Written for Fandom Trumps Hate 2017.)





	you only got to raise your eyes

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for [Fandom Trumps Hate](https://fandomtrumpshate.tumblr.com/), a charity auction that took place a few months ago. My donator asked for some Snowy/Trainer meet-cute! I hope I delivered!
> 
> Big, big thanks to [bookwyrmling](http://bookwyrmling.tumblr.com/) for the beta, and for the support in helping me write this! Couldn't have done it without you! That being said, if there's any mistakes here, they are a l l me. 
> 
> A bigger thank you to Ruby for donating to [RAINN](https://www.rainn.org/) in exchange for this. They're a really important organization. 
> 
> The title is from "Free Me" by Joss Stone, a song I listened to a lot while writing this.

Nick Snow did not need to be spending as much money on books as he currently was. In fact, as a college student with a budget that amounted to _about_ three dollars and a hearty laugh, he shouldn’t have been buying _any_ books.

And yet, here he was, for the third time that week, laying down a Penguin Classic edition of _Frankenstein_ on the counter in front of the checker, with a smile. The checker glanced at the book, and then up at the owner. “You sure read a lot, don’t you?” A soft drawl tinted his words, and Nick struggled to keep his expression cooly interested.

“Sure do. English major and all that.” Tater’s voice flooded his thoughts, surely saying something about how he hadn’t actually read _anything_ he’d purchased yet. In fact, he’d returned every single book hours after he bought it, much to the checker after this one’s irritation.

The checker nodded. “Makes sense.” He slid the book into a brown paper bag and handed it over after Nick slid his card through the machine. “Hey, enjoy your book. Maybe even savor it this time.”

Nick felt the beginnings of a flush tint his cheeks, a reaction to the checker’s nice smile. He ducked his head, and turned away, hoping the checker didn’t notice. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Nick walked away, leaving a slightly confused checker in his wake.

 

“You like him.” Tater grinned, pulling another long swig from his coffee monstrosity _(2_ _shots of espresso with large black coffee, three pumps caramel and one pump vanilla_ _)._ “Why not ask him on date?”

Nick groaned. “No, it doesn’t work that way. I can’t just… lean over the counter and give him a smolder, and make him fall all over himself for me. That’d be too gauche.”

Tater frowned. “Why not?”

Nick held up a finger. “One, because it’s creepy.” Another. “Two, because I don’t even know if he’s into guys, much less me, and three-” he flicked a third finger into the air, punctuating it with a scowl. “I don’t even know his name.”

“You don’t know his _name?_ Snowy, you have to ask name, that’s like first thing,” Tater said, expression downright mirthful. “Now I know that I’m thinking you are creepy.”

Nick slumped down onto the table and groaned. “Shut up, Tater. Barnum’s doesn’t have employee nametags, and it’s not like I could just _ask.”_

Nick, despite his eyes pressed against his closed fists as he hunched over the coffee shop table, knew Tater was rolling his eyes. “Uh-huh. Of course not. Asking people a name way too much work. Would ruin cool attitude, yes?”

Nick huffed. “No. That’s not it.”

Tater nudged Nick’s elbow, making Nick look up. “Look, I’m not hearing any more of your bitching. Ask this clerk his name, or I’m thinking I have to go to Barnum’s and get name myself.”

Nick paled, remembering the last time Tater had tried to wingman for him. That particular excursion had ended in a totaled car, a second-degree burn on his romantic interest, and the reveal that his date didn’t even know they were on a date to begin with. “I’ll get the name.”

Tater smiled, sunny, and picked up Nick’s cup. “Good. Now I’m thinking it’s study time, and you need more coffee, yeah? I’ll be back.”

Nick nodded, and let Tater go. If Tater made good on his promise, Nick would never actually learn the guy’s name, much less anything else about him, and he’d also lose the ability to go to his favorite bookstore ever again. He’d need to actually talk to the guy he supposed, and soon.

 

James Barnum was… confused. He’d picked up a copy of the book that Nicholas Snow (whose name he only knew off his credit card) had bought just minutes ago. It was a book by some dude named Walt Whitman, a book of poetry.

James, despite his family owning the only independent bookstore in town, and growing up with at _least_ three bookshelves in every room, had never picked up much of a penchant for reading, and especially not poetry. If he was going to read, it’d be historical non-fiction or his textbooks. Anything else was, quite frankly, a little boring.

 _“And your very flesh shall be a great poem.”_ James snorted, and rolled his eyes. Overly flowery language and (in his personal opinion) far too many metaphors crossed over from the land of a little boring to obnoxious.

But the guy who kept buying books, two or three times a week and always on James’s shifts — as he’d come to find out from his amused co-workers — was not. And Nicholas Snow, unlike the poetry and the classic novels and all the other drab stuff he would buy, was something James was _very_ interested in.

“That’s a good one.” James’s head jolted up, and he met the eyes of the man he’d definitely not been thinking about instead of reading. Certainly not.

“It’s alright,” James said, closing it and putting it down. “Buying more books?” He asked, though he already knew the answer. In Nicholas’s hands, there was a sizeable stack, a mixture of plays and poetry books, with a few classics thrown in. The price, despite their status as a used bookstore, would easily come to over thirty dollars. James resisted the urge to ask if Nicholas ever read anything fun, like science fiction or fantasy, as the man set the stack on his counter.

“Yeah. I have a thing coming up.” Nicholas waved his hands, long fingers trailing through the air and momentarily distracting James.

“Some _thing,_ with this many books,” James said, ringing up the last one and setting it in Nicholas’s cloth bag. “Are you like, a poetry major?”

Nicholas blushed. “Something like that.” He handed James his credit card, and James handed it back a second later, flashing Nicholas his best smile.

“Have a nice day, now.” He said, winking.

Nicholas nodded jerkily and booked it out of the bookstore. James watched him go and then turned back to the book. He frowned, and put it back on the shelf across from him, replacing it with another, lighter fare. It was obvious Nicholas liked to read, and he seemed to only like classics. So that’s what James would read too, then, if only to have something to talk with him about next time he came in. Except everything was so _boring,_  and hard to get through, and Nicholas never seemed to stay and talk with him for longer than a transaction, anyway.

 

Nick Snow was a goddamned _liar,_ and he knew it too. Tater was laughing at him as soon as he saw the stack of books on Nick’s desk. “So when you gonna return these ones, Snowy?”

He sighed and shot a half-hearted glare at Tater. “Shut up. Maybe I’ll keep these ones.”

Tater snorted. “Yeah, right. And next game, I play goalie and you be defenseman, and we win.”

Nick kicked at Tater’s calves where he sprawled on Nick’s bed. “Go away. I’m trying to study.” He turned back to his desk, where his computer lay open on a document empty of all but his name.

“Yeah? When did studying start counting for daydreaming about crush?” The grin in Tater’s voice was downright smarmy, and Nick tossed his stress ball at him. “Ow, you hurt me. I’m injury, and now can’t play next game!”

“Get _out,_  Tater.” Nick stood, and bodily shoved Tater towards the doorway, not that it did much. Tater raised his hands placatingly and grinned.

“I go, I go. Have fun thinking about _boy-”_ Nick shut the door in Tater’s face, and rolled his eyes as he stalked back to his desk to focus on his lit paper.

Only to have his thoughts stray not five minutes later. He still hadn’t asked the name of the clerk at Barnum’s, and he knew as soon as Tater found out there’d be trouble. It was hard to think about asking his name when Nick spent most of every visit staring adoringly and trying not to trip over his own words. He was only capable of so much.

He _could_ just… ask another employee, next time he went into return the latest set of books, but that was nerve-wracking as well. For someone who was so calm between the posts and stared down opposing players with a terrifyingly calm demeanor, Nick Snow was a bit of a mess outside of hockey. _Especially_ when it came to guys with nice smiles, broad shoulders, and-

He was getting distracted again. Nick settled down and refocused his efforts on his analysis, tuning out the sounds of Tater shouting at Thirdy in excited Russian, with Marty’s laugh in the background.

He was promptly distracted once more replaying today’s conversation in his head. With a groan, he slumped over his desk. His lit analysis wasn’t getting done right now, apparently.

 

The next time Nicholas came in, James swore he was gonna ask him on a date. Except, the next time Nicholas came in, James had just left for his break. He passed by him coming out of the shop, arms empty of books for once.

“Hey!” He said, grinning at Nicholas. Nicholas waved but kept walking. He looked panicked, like he’d been caught, a deer-in-the-headlights look prominent on his face the second he saw James.

“What was up with him?” James jabbed a finger over his shoulder at Nicholas’s retreating form.

His co-worker rolled her eyes. “He does that every week.” She said, eyes focused on a beaten-up paperback in front of her. “I don’t understand why he doesn’t just use the library if he’s gonna return everything he buys. Like, it’s free there!”

James frowned. “Huh?” He took the register next to her and began straightening the racks of new releases behind them.

She arched an eyebrow, spinning in the chair she was sitting on to face him. “Oh, you don’t know? That guy buys books every week and then returns them the next day to beat our returns for cash back policy. It’s getting like, super annoying.”

James paused, evaluating. “He comes in every week?”

“Uh-huh.” She said, punctuating her declaration with a snap of her gum.

James was… confused. If what he was hearing was correct, that meant every time Nicholas came in and bought books, he came back within 24 hours to return them. Was he really reading them that quickly? Or was he… stealing them?

“That’s not even possible,” James muttered to himself, shoving a book into the shelf particularly roughly. “What the hell.”

“You alright back there, Barnum?”

He hummed and left the stacks behind the desk alone to wander through the rest of the shelves, straightening and rearranging where he needed to, all the while trying to figure out the mystery that had been unexpectedly plopped in his lap. If he was in a mystery novel, he supposed he’d call this one “The Case of the Returned Books” or something.

By the end of his shift, and several hours of mulling over what the hell was going on and why it bothered him so much, he resolved to just _ask_ Nicholas why he’d been buying books and then returning them so quickly thereafter.

 

 

“I fucked up.” Tater looked at him concernedly across the table, eyebrows lifted.

“Yes, probably.” Nick kicked his shin and glared. “Ow, be nice!” Tater said, reaching over to flick Nick in the ear. “Now, how you fucked up this time?”

Nick sighed, overdramatically slumping forward, almost knocking over his coffee mug in the meantime. “The clerk saw me.”

“The one with the name you not figure out yet?” Nick nodded. “Why you not just ask him? Is not that big of fuck up.”

Nick sighed. “It’s not that. He saw me returning the books, and now he’s going to _know_ I’m a fraud.”

Nick could hear Tater trying to smother laughter, unsuccessfully. “I tell you weeks ago that buying books for a man is dumb idea. And you tell me ‘Tater, will be fine. Don’t worry about it.’” Tater said, mimicking Nick’s soft Jersey accent poorly. “And then here you are, telling me it didn’t work. I’m thinking you should listen more, Snowy.”

Nick groaned. “Shut up. It would have worked, except I waited too long to return these ones because of that paper I was writing, and then I had to go when I knew he was working, and he didn’t take his break at the normal time, so I had to wait. And then the line was so long that by the time I left, he was getting back.”

“And you still not knowing his name.”

“Yeah. And that. Thanks, Tater.” Nick settled another glare on Tater and slumped back over, cupping his cheek in his hand as he dragged his fingernail through some spilled sugar on the diner’s linoleum table cover.

“So what? Just tell him your scheme, and maybe he think it cute. Maybe then you get head out of ass and ask him out, yes?” The grin in Tater’s voice was all too present.

“I’m glad you’re getting such a source of amusement from my trauma.” Nick said, huffing.

Tater shrugged. “I’m thinking things are funny and I laugh at them. You did a stupid thing, and now I laugh. Is how that works.”

“Nicholas?” The voice that interrupted Tater’s was one Nick was all too familiar with.

“Fuck,” he whispered, and turned in his seat, meeting the eyes of the bookstore clerk. “Hey, what’s up?”

The clerk lifted a hand. “Weird seeing you out of the bookstore.”

Nick felt Tater exit the booth, and he shot him a pleading look as he retreated, to no avail. Tater had figured out who this other man was, and was, in his own way, trying to help. “I’ll see you at home,” he said, before heading for the diner door.

Nick watched him go, trying frantically to plan an escape. No luck. “Can I steal this seat?” The clerk pointed to the one Tater had just left, pairing it with a small smile.

Nick shrugged. “It’s a free country, dude.” He said, already resigning himself to what he’d decided would be the most awkward conversation he’d have this year.

After all, there was no easy way to say, “Hey, I’ve been buying books from the bookstore you work at in a shitty attempt to impress you with the sheer volume, and the classic titles. But I’ve had to return every single one because I’m a broke college kid who can’t afford to be spending sixty bucks on books a week. Sorry, and also I swear I’ll find another bookstore.”

“Well, yeah. Doesn’t mean I should just intrude if I want to,” the clerk said, taking the unoccupied chair. “So, Nicholas, I have a question for you.”

“Nick.” Nick grimaced at the sound of his given name. Only his very angry mother and her Italian relatives called him that. To everyone else, he was Nick, and to his teammates, he was Snowy.

“Nick, then. Why do you keep coming into the bookstore and buying things if you’re going to return them the same day?” Nick blanched. For a second, he’d been hoping the clerk hadn’t remembered seeing him and was just sitting down for a chat. But, much to Nick’s chagrin (and definitely in line with his luck), the clerk was as blunt as could be. “I figured maybe you were reading them before our 24-hour policy ended, but then I realized there was no way. So, I mean, what the hell? Do you just like making work for us?”

The clerk looked like he was teasing, but there was an edge of confusion, and frustration, to his voice. “Uh- I mean, um?” Nick coughed, trying to avoid the clerk’s eyes. “I don’t know your name?”

The clerk’s heavy stare turned into confusion. “What?”

“I don’t know your name. You don’t have a name tag.”

The clerk waved his hand. “It’s James. Now, back to the point. The returns?”

 _James._. Nick met James’s stare and sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m really broke.”

“So why not go to the library?”

Nick shrugged, chewed on his lip. “You’re cute?”

James’s facial expression went still, and Nick couldn’t tell if it was the stillness that came before an angry, homophobic remark, or something else entirely.

His lips turned upwards, into a salacious grin, and he leaned forward. Something else, then. _“Am_ I?”

Nick buried his face in his hands. “Oh my God.”

James’s laugh was bright, happy. “So wait, lemme piece this together. You’re too broke to afford the books, but I’m too cute to not come back? So you return them and get your money back when I’m not on shift. Except for the other day?”

Nick groaned. “Please, just. Let me wallow in embarrassment now.”

“Nah.” Nick felt his hand being pulled gently from his face. “That’s like, super flattering, dude. How do you know my schedule?”

Nick avoided making eye contact. “Trial and error?”

James didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered by this revelation at all, though Nick felt he was _well_ within his right to be so. “That’s adorable.”

“What?” Nick’s head jerked up, and he met James’s eyes, the redness in his complexion intensified. “I-”

James was grinning a shit-eating grin that showed every single perfect, white tooth. “You heard me, Nicky.”

“Nicky?” Nick arched an eyebrow. “You hardly know me, and you’re already giving me nicknames?”

“Uh-huh. Figured it’s retribution for the stalking.”

Nick huffed and glared at James. “It wasn’t _stalking._ It _started_ because I needed a book and then I just…”

“Needed to see me?” James’s expression grew a bit softer. “If we’re being honest, I was glad to see you too.”

“You were?” Nick ran a hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck. “I figured you were just being nice.”

“What, you think I flirt with all the customers that come through my shop?” James shook his head. “Nah, just you.”

“Flirting, huh?” Nick grinned. “You like me.”

James shrugged. “I thought that was pretty obvious by now.” He leaned forward, cradling his chin in his hands. “Wanna get dinner? Like, as a date?”

“We’re already eating lunch, isn’t that enough?” Nick teased, finding James’s shin under the table and tapping it gently with his foot, to indicate he was kidding.

“Drinking a cup of coffee as you study or whatever,” James said, waving a hand at Nick’s pile of books. “And _happening_ to see me at the same time doesn’t count.”

Nick lifted a shoulder. “Fair enough. You can pick me up Saturday after the hockey game.” He plucked a piece of paper from one of his notebooks and scribbled the address to his apartment, and the time he’d be back. “Here,” he said, passing it to James.

James looked at his watch. “Alright, sounds good.” He stood, and smiled at Nick. “I have to bounce now, though. Technically my break ended ten minutes ago, but I own the shop, so whatever.”

“Own-” Nick gaped, and then sighed. “Well, you’re gonna have to explain that one to me later.”

James lifted a hand and exited the diner. He stopped right outside of Nick’s window and blew him a kiss paired with a cheeky wink. Nick went beet red, again, and James’s laugh could be heard from outside as he walked away.

“More coffee?” The waitress, who Nick could tell had been watching the entire debacle just now, looked way too amused for her own good.

Nick nodded, avoiding meeting her eyes but unable to keep the small smile that had been playing across his lips the entire time James was there off his face.

 

“Snowy! Your boy is here!” Tater’s voice called from the living room. Nick gave one last look over his outfit and nodded once. It would do unless James decided they were going to a five-star restaurant.

Tater was staring at James when Nick got to their living room, his arms folded across his chest. He turned to Nick and grinned. “He cute. I’m thinking for a while you just like his books, but he has nice face, too.” He turned back to James, who now looked sufficiently embarrassed, and clapped him on the shoulder. “You treat our Snowy right, or police will never be finding your body.”

James looked confused, and slightly terrified, as Nick pulled him out of the apartment, glaring at Tater as he passed him. “Who was that?”

“My teammate,” Nick said, locking the door behind them and heading for the steps. “Sorry about that. He can be a little… imposing.”

James was silent as he followed Nick to the first floor of the building and out the doors. “Wait a minute.” Nick stopped, letting James catch up and start leading them to his car. “When you said after the hockey game, I assumed you were going. Are you, I mean do you… play for them?”

Nick nodded. “Yep. Goalie. Got a free ride for it, too.”

James hummed an amused little sound as he opened Nick’s door. “What other hidden depths do you have, Nicky?”

Nick grinned at James across the hood. “Guess you’ll have to find out.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was a lot later than I intended it to be, but college... is the worst. 
> 
> There will be another FTH fic up soon. It's with a beta and being edited right now. Hopefully I can get it up by the end of the month. 
> 
> Find me on [tumblr.](http://whiskeytangofrogman.tumblr.com/)


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